What Ifs
by purpleicing
Summary: Bella's cyclone of thoughts heads south a little and Jacob is within the eye. (Drabble-ish-kinda-but-not-really)


_AN: Just a longer drabble-ish type thing. This was just for fun as usual, not profiting off it or anything yadayada..._

 **Word Count: 1239**

Smooth toffee skin stretched over a tremendous bulk of muscle that expanded with each minuscule as he attended to the vehicle's components in studious concentration. A long sigh exhaled through a modestly broad nose, those dark brows of his drew together while sensual full lips trapped a barely audible but throaty growl. Bella's own lips twitched with the threat of a smirk, something definitely wasn't going his way.

And her notions were confirmed when he leaned even further over the open hood of his beloved red hatchback, both hands firmly cemented on each side. Deep onyx irises darted back and forth over the engine like a tennis ball at Wimbledon, while those inviting lips were pursed and gnawed at with full concentration. Bella didn't fail to notice that the short sleeves of his grey tee-shirt were barely supporting the thick biceps currently in a flexed state—she was still secretly floored at his transformation from boy to man-boy thing in a short space of time.

Jacob Black was rapidly becoming a distraction in all the ways she'd hope and all the other ways she'd dread. More than often than not, she was skating dangerously close towards the line she herself had drawn between them as friends. Warmth and comfort lingered around her chest when he was with her. Whether it was one of his bone crushing hugs, a friendly strong arm around her shoulder or rough but gentle fingers intertwined with her own—she just felt she was inching a step closer to something resembling whole.

She branded it a Jacob-Thing, he simply just exuded radiance and showered down little beams of kindness, passion and strength over her during the last couple months. And everything was so easy, their conversations, laughter and banter flowed as free as an exhaled breath. Too easy and too good to be true sometimes.

But true self destructive behavior never really faded, because this was the second time that week she was using the last five minutes of her visit to flick through a heap of _what ifs_. His beauty wasn't something foreign to her but, these short reflections seemed to only be focused on one particular physical attribute of Jacob's at a time. It was torturing and somewhat gratifying.

The first time she was sat crossed legged at his feet and it was only when he bent down abruptly to pass her back a tool, she felt the brush of his inked locks against her forehead. He'd apologise with a sheepish smile and paused to tie the carefree, shiny strands haphazardly and rushed like he was ashamed. Bella could've swallowed her tongue when she almost made attempt to comfort him with unintended flattery.

She'd let her mind wander instead, with images of impossibly soft , indulgent midnight locks that teased her creamed skin with a millisecond of bliss. She'd stare in awe that the loose strands that framed the perimeter of his progressively angled face. Bella didn't know why but she was drawing some sort of odd comfort from it.

What if she touched it again? Just for a few seconds... What if she twirled a few strands with her fingers? What if she brushed her cheek against his scalp? Would he be okay with that? Would she?

Bella almost made up a flimsy excuse to tie it back herself, just to put herself through heaven and hell all at once. Her five minutes went up and she'd leave in all kinds of shades of pink, while he beamed at her non the wiser.

This time on a rainy Saturday afternoon lounged on the love-seat with a half empty warm coke and one of his jackets she'd use as a blanket (she couldn't have been imagining the lingering warmth) over her slender, lukewarm thighs—her gaze felt permanently fixated on his lips. Bella's keen, treacherous eyes roved over his currently jutted out, warm rosewood bottom lip. Against the shade of his delectably level caramel skin, the warm shade of pink made those lips look all the more striking.

And alluring in Bella's eyes, the closest she'd ever been to them was when they brushed against her hair after he withdrew from a very lengthy hug they shared before she'd leave for a home full of painful memories, emptiness and a lately vigilant father.

She wondered how it'd feel to sweep her thumb over it and if it really did feel like Egyptian cotton pillows. If she did—of course in an alternate universe somewhere sorrow and emptiness were banished forever from her wounded heart—Jacob would most likely stiffen up in astonishment. And because he'd been patient and gentle as ever, she knew he'd let her continue her exploration ostensibly unperturbed. But what if she did more than trace the outline of his lips?

What if she wanted to feel it on her skin? That'd be a difficult experiment to conduct. If he brushed what she was sure was satins substitute across her cheek, it'd be hard to not want to feel it anywhere else. What if he lightly grazed them across her jaw with peppered kisses and kept the string going down her neck. The thought made her face redden down to her chest and if possible increased when another _what if_ popped into her head, involving those same lips ghosting across the top of her chest. Strange stirrings at the depths of her belly made her gasp aloud.

"Bells, you're as red as a strawberry" her head snapped up to husky tones she missed, penetrating the comfortable silence once again. Jacob's dark brows were now separated and raised in mild amusement and the rosewoods were hitched up with an endearing smile, hints of a smirk lingering in the corners. Bella's gaze dropped to the ground because she just couldn't trust herself, she was sure her scarlet stained face was intensifying by the second.

She decided to leave thirty seconds early and mumbled something quick about making Charlie a surprise dinner—which he snorted at a little and told her he expected the same the next time she came back. Bella slugged him firmly in the arm, wincing a little (he was getting stronger every time she saw him) and a deep laugh rumbled from within his belly and echoed throughout the garage space. She'd call him a chauvinist, but she couldn't resist the brilliant smile that reflected his own on her face while she said the words. But she agreed anyway, that smile alone could make her agree to almost anything these days. It was dangerous.

After she found herself leaning a little further into that comforting warm goodbye hug, in hopes he'd take the hint and brush those circean lips against her hairline, she drove home swearing that that'd be the last time she flirted with _what ifs_ about her best friend.

But four days later when Jacob plucked up the courage to ghost a kiss on the side of her head and recognition flickered briefly in those open obsidian eyes—Bella decided to make an exception.


End file.
